Every Bit As Good As Kyle
by NoseBridgePinch
Summary: The weekend after the egg project ended, Stan finds a baby alone in the McCormick's house. With Kyle out of town, his last resort is his other egg partner, Bebe. A continuation of Follow That Egg. Bebe and Stan friendship.
1. Stan and Kyle

Kyle could be so insecure at times. Throughout the wedding ceremony he kept poking Stan in his bad arm asking if Stan was totally sure his hat was in fact not stupid, and Stan kept whispering to his friend it was awesome and Kyle had absolutely nothing to worry about. Christ it was as if they really were a married couple even though that stupid egg project had ended Friday. Stan was so annoyed at Kyle bugging him he had snapped at Wendy when the wedding ceremony was over. But it was almost worth it to see her so pissed off, but he felt a twinge of sadness as she stomped across the reception and grabbed Token's hand. Whatever Wendy was a bitch and even though she did looked really cute in pink he didn't need her.

It was a historic day for the town of South Park but the meaning was lost on Stan and Kyle, whatever they had done for gay marriage rights. Either way the entire town had been invited to the wedding of Mr. Slave and Big Gay Al and that meant Broflovskis and Marshes had shown up as well, the wedding had an open bar after all. Kyle was lucky though; his family would be leaving early because the entire family would be traveling to Denver to check out some science museum, something a big dork like Kyle would be really excited about. Stan's family usually just went camping or hunting. But this meant Kyle would be gone the rest of the weekend. Stan didn't need Wendy but he did need Kyle around or he was really lonely otherwise, even if Kyle was being a pain in the ass right now.

"No really Kyle, your hat is fine dude."

"Are you sure about that Stan?"

Stan rolled his eyes as he passed a table with a tray of food at the reception; he picked up a shrimp skewer with his good hand and twirled it around. He hated seafood usually…wait he stopped eating it because Wendy had gotten to him about the suffering of dolphins being caught in nets or something, fuck at this point he should love seafood. Stan shoved the shrimp in his mouth and scanned the reception crowd for a flash of pink purple and black, not really paying attention to Kyle's whining.

"Yeah dude, I'm sure." Stan said with his mouth full.

Kyle crossed his arms. "What if I don't believe you?"

"Then don't believe me! See if I care."

"Stop being a dick to me Stan, I thought you were over this Wendy business."

"THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH WENDY!" Across the room he caught her eye and she gave him a death glare and turned back to the Token.

"Like hell it doesn't Stan: you always get that look on your face and give me attitude when you're trying to not to think about her. It's making you totally lame."

"You're the one going on about your stupid hat Kyle!"

Kyle pouted. "So you're saying my hat IS stupid?"

Stan nosebridgepinched. Not this again. "Kyle, it's not the hat that's stupid, it's the fact that you won't stop obsessing over it!"

"Oh like what you're doing with Wendy?"

"What? No I'm, not. This is completely different!"

Kyle crossed his arms. "I don't see a difference."

"Really Kyle, you don't see a difference between my ex girlfriend and your hat?"

"Well in my defense, you've had Wendy since the middle of third grade while I've had my hat since before preschool and at least I still have it!"

Stan stood open mouthed at his best friend's remark while Kyle smirked and looked up behind him.

"It looks like my dad is calling me. It's probably time to leave. I'll see you in school on Monday dude and think about what I said Stan. There are other girls out there."

Kyle patted his friend on the arm and ran off and Stan stood dumbfounded for a moment. He considered going back to the snack table but saw Wendy over there and quickly turned in the opposite direction. This whole wedding he was forced to go to was fucking stupid anyway. His sprained elbow ached and he felt stuffy and uncomfortable in his good suit. Jesus Christ he never had to wear it this long for any of Kenny's funerals!

Speaking of Kenny he'd said his family would show up saying his parents would never turn down a free bar. Stan figured the wedding would be more bearable if he had a friend to talk to, but Kenny and Cartman were absent and even stupid Butters would be a welcome sight right about now. Stan saw his mother sitting at a table and went to join her, plopping down in his seat with a dramatic sigh.

"Mom can we go?"

"Go? It's barely been an hour into the reception. They haven't even cut the cake yet Stanley."

"But I'm bored mom, I have no friends here!"

"Now Stanley it's because you and your little friend Kyle that this day could happen, and I've never had a cucumber margarita before."

"What did we do mom?"

Sharon just laughed and took a big gulp of her drink. "Go hang out with your sister Stanley, I like seeing my children get along."

Stan sighed, his arm and head were already sore enough. The reception was being held at the South Park Country Club and while people were happily conversing and getting drunk out on the fancy dining hall Stan decided to sneak to the front desk, asking to use the courtesy phone. He quickly dialed Kenny's phone number.

Across town the McCormick family's single landline phone started to ring. Kenny, in his own powder blue suit, was happily watching his mother smack his father in the back of the head with her stripper heel stiletto, the same heels she wore to church.

"Someone get that goddamn phone!" His father screamed as he tried to fight back with a cinderblock he yanked off the family's homemade bookshelf, causing a stack of Playboys to fall on the floor.

After a giggle fit and quick rock paper scissors game with his older brother and younger sister, which Kenny lost, he tore himself away from his family's main source of entertainment and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Kenny where are you?" Stan snapped.

"I'm still at home man. My mom can't find her other dress shoe and is taking it out on my dad. It's hilarious dude, you have to watch them go at it sometime!"

"Well the ceremony is over and I'm bored out of my mind at the reception. Come here and keep me company dude."

Stan could hear Kenny laughing hysterically on the other end and mentioning to someone he won his bet and to pay up with Miss February and Miss August when he was hit with an idea.

"Hey Kenny since this party sucks so much ass do you think you can get out of not coming and we can do something else while our families are busy?"

Kenny grinned as his prize was handed over by his brother. They always took bets on who would win on fights between their parents. Kenny always bet on his mother and as a result his Playboy collection was a lot bigger than his brothers. "Sure dude, I doubt my parents would even miss me there. They're more concerned about something else at the wedding, the booze really is free?"

"Yeah I guess, I already saw my mom and dad arguing over who gets to drive home. At this point they might make Shelly do it again. I really don't want to be around for that. Wanna meet up somewhere or what?"

Kenny opened August's centerfold and was eyeing the goods. "Come here and we can figure it out from there, I have to…do something important in the time it'll take you to get here."

"Alright dude, bye!"

Stan went back into the dining hall where he was met with his father in the middle of a drunken conversation with Officer Barbrady.

"So if I drink about three more beers then do you think I'll be over the limit officer?"

"I don't know Mr. Marsh we'd need to give you a breathalyzer for that."

"Oh cool! Let me finish off this round and we can go to your car and I can do that. It'll be totally cool, SHARON HEY SHARON."

Stan decided not to even bother saying he was leaving: the whole situation just spelled disaster. Jesus Christ, his dad was going to get arrested again. Well the last time it was worth it, he'd be safe from being stuck playing baseball for until the next summer. Stan just simply walked out of there and headed towards Kenny's neighborhood. He figured it'd be about a half hour walk if he took his time.

_Author's Note- My have I been prolific lately. I've been working on this one a bit at a time since it was a cute idea me and my friend Mad_Cow5678 came up with one day while sleep deprived in chat. (check out her stuff check out her stuff check out her stuff) I got to ten pages and realized it would be easier to read broken up into chapters so this is what you get. It doubt there's much Stan and Bebe Friendship fics out there but hold tight. Bebe doesn't enter for a while._

_Bebe Stevens and Stan Marsh are two of my favorite characters btw._


	2. Stan and Kenny

Meanwhile in the McCormick household, Carol was digging around her bedroom for her other shoes, wondering if flip flops would be a good substitute to complete her 'Sunday best' outfit while her husband went out to the yard to put oil and water into the old pickup truck to make sure it would make it all the way to the wedding. Kenny decided to use this opportunity to put his newly acquired reading material in a safe spot. Compared to his close friends' bedrooms the sleeping area of Kenny McCormick was quite modest like the rest of his house. But what it lacked in comfort it made up for having the best wall decorations. Of course Kenny's mother had a strict 'no nudity on the walls' rule. One of the few enforced in the McCormick household and probably the only one Kenny respected, if only until his little sister reached 3rd grade. 3rd grade was when all the crazy shit started to happen to you. Kenny's mother never said anything about the inside of his closet though. Closets were pretty sacred in Kenny's house. Kenny's parents kept what they called their 'grown up science lab' in theirs and Kenny now knew never to touch it, the fatal burns he suffered were a particularly slow and painful way to go. Karen slept in her closet, explaining that she felt safest in there and Kenny had no clue about the contents of his brother's closet but assumed or really hoped it was somewhat similar to his own, only Kenny's had the better porn collection.

The top shelf held most of Kenny's Playboy's, Zoo's and even a very rare and very prized few copies of Hustler. Open a Playboy and then a Hustler side by side to know why Kenny found those more interesting. The old shelf had been getting quite filled up over the years and Kenny balanced on a chair to put the magazines on the very top. Happily he jumped down but Kenny unlucky as ever happened to be standing under the shelf right as it decided to give in to the weight of years and years of titty magazines and collapse right on top of him. Kenny probably would call this death one for the record books. He had taken to recording his deaths in a little red notebook after the realization that no one remembered his dying other than him, if only to prove to himself that he wasn't completely crazy. This might have been a better one, crushed by a huge stack of his favorite magazines but sadly it was the metal closet rod going with the rest of the shelf and right into his eye is what did him in, and got blood all over his nice blue suit as well. At least it was a quick death.

Carol had given up on the missing shoe search and stood in front of her bathroom mirror curling her hair when she felt the familiar and almost daily pain in her stomach. So as not to stain or ruin her good outfit she hiked up her skirt and squatted down in the bathtub. Fuckin-a, these home births were getting annoying…but so much cheaper and time saving than going to the hospital each time. After a while another Kenny was born, Stuart came in right after.

"I found your other shoe in the car- OH WHAT THE HELL! AGAIN?"

"I know, stupid cult meeting. Well clean him up and put him in his bed. I gotta clean up if we're still gonna make it to the wedding. I need a drink after this. At least it's one less kid to watch while at there."

Stuart obeyed, leaving the high heeled shoe on the bathroom sink. He and his wife could argue about pretty much anything under the sun but when ever this happened he knew just obey and do what he could. The guilt of first getting a twelve year old girl pregnant and then after a cult meeting, dooming her to repeatedly give birth to their middle child will do that to you. He went to clean off the newborn in the kitchen sink, neither Kevin nor Karen batting an eye: the entire family was already used to all this. After putting a fresh diaper on the baby that was kept in the pantry, Stuart went to Kenny's bedroom to put the new Kenny in his bed. But with the mess the collapsed closet shelf the orange hoodie that always magically appeared there was buried under a mess of…HIS MAGAZINES! So that's where all the good ones went, the little bastard. Maybe he did deserve to die almost every day if he was a goddamn thief! The McCormick's were always behind on their bills but Stuart always made sure his titty magazine subscriptions stayed up to date on payment. Priorities. Stuart left baby Kenny wrapped in a dirty paisley throw rug and looked over the mess, taking back a few magazines for himself just as Carol appeared in the doorway, skirt straightened and fancy shoes on. The other two children were quickly loaded into the truck, which sputtered and coughed its way down the street as Stan entered from the opposite direction.

Stan and his friends never spent that much time at Kenny's house, but Stan could see his own house from the view in Kenny's front yard. Did that make his own family poor? Stan sure hoped not, the train tracks did separate him from the poor side of town but maybe that was just about it. Stan stood at the front door and knocked. He waited and knocked again. No response at all.

"Hello! Kenny!" He pounded on the door, still nothing. His good hand went for the door knob and it opened easily, much to Stan's surprise. He wondered why the McCormick's didn't need to lock their doors. But he figured what did they possibly have that people would want to steal? It was really mean to say but also really hilarious. Either way, Stan entered the living room and called for his friend again. The house was dead silent except for the scraping of what were probably mice in the walls. Stan's eyes fell onto the spilled stack of Playboys all over the living room floor. As much as Kenny cherished these magazines Stan had never really looked at one himself. Not that he wasn't interested in looking at attractive and naked women in print; he just never did because he always thought it would severely piss off Wendy if she knew he was doing that stuff. But hey he didn't give a fuck about her anymore, right? Right!

"Hey Kenny come out now or I'm gonna look at one of your magazines!"

He looked over the mess on the floor and selected one. October of last year: that was his birth month after all. He held it out and placed his thumb between the pages, hesitating. If a girl he used to like attempting to kiss him would make him throw up what would this do?

"I'm gonna do it Kenny! Kenny?"

What the hell, did he decide to go to the lame ass wedding after all? Stan took a deep breath and opened the magazine to be met with…a page of text, about golf apparently. He sighed and was about to try and psych himself up to try another page when the piercing wail of a baby crying startled him, making him drop the magazine in shock.

The noise was coming from Kenny's room and Stan pushed the door in and discovered the baby on the bed screaming its head off. Did Kenny have another sibling all of a sudden? Stan wouldn't have been surprised, seeing as Kenny had his four year old sister appear practically out of nowhere. Stan knew what to do though, or at least he hoped he did. Stan wanted to believe all last week's lesson was ACTUALLY beneficial to his education but sadly he was pretty sure the entire thing was made up just to screw with him personally for Garrison's own twisted amusement. Stan sat at the edge of the bed and gingerly tried to rock the baby back and forth and trying to shush it.

"Shh! Shh, little guy, it's okay."

Stan was trying to remember what babies liked, and was suddenly hit with the realization that the entire time he was partnered with Kyle, Kyle had been the one to take care of the egg. Bathing it and everything like a fag. Well…that fagginess had earned both of them an A. When Stan thought he was in charge of the egg he had it broken in his hand, he was grateful when he knew Kyle had switched because he was untrustworthy. But when he was partnered with Bebe, she told Wendy how terrible he was with the egg while he was busy not caring and trying to eavesdrop on every word of their conversation. Fuck, the stupid egg ended up with Sparky because he liked to chew on stuff. Stan raked his brain, he certainly knew what dogs liked and a baby can't be that much different. Babies sucked on bottles and pacifiers. He got up and looked around the room for some kind of rubbery toy to give to the baby.

The crying of the baby was starting to grate on Stan's nerves as he quickly scanned Kenny's bedroom for something suitable for it. A baby wouldn't have any use for titty magazines, other than food porn he assumed. Stan went out to the bathroom, pulling our drawers and looking in the cabinet for anything the baby could suck on. Still nothing, as a last resort Stan checked out Kenny's little sister's room, maybe she had rubber toys or doll pacifiers. Bedroom was a generous term, more like Karen slept in a small alcove with a double door coat closet. The 'bedroom' of Karen McCormick was bare though. With the baby still shrieking, Stan yanked open the closet with some difficulty. Still nothing, except for what was blocking the closet from opening; a little rusty red wagon filled with pillows and blankets. Stan assumed it was some kind of fort, in reality this was Karen's bed. Stan decided if he put the baby in the wagon and pulled it up the street to his house; he could give it Sparky's rubber bone if that would shut it up. If Kenny's little brother was abandoned, Stan would have to watch it until Kenny's parents got home; it was the right thing to do.

Stan pulled the little wagon back into Kenny's room and set it next to the bed and the very loudly crying baby. He again tried to rock the baby back and forth and when that didn't work he unwrapped the baby from the carpet and slid his hands under its armpits trying to lift it up. A crying, wriggling baby was a bit hard for a nine year old boy to pick up correctly with a sprained elbow and Stan ended up half rolling half scooting the baby into the wagon. The baby cried harder at this so Stan tried his best to tuck the baby under the blankets and soothe him. When that failed to work he grabbed the handle with his good hand and with some difficulty pulled the wagon out of the house and onto the porch. He made sure to lock the McCormick's front door behind him.

The neighborhood looked pretty deserted for a snowy Saturday afternoon but still Stan thought it was awfully suspicious for a nine year old boy to be pulling a crying baby in a wagon, even if he did live just up the street. Wendy's words from earlier that day came back to him. Good father? She thought that he was even as good as Kyle was with the egg? All Stan could remember was making sure Kyle wrote that on their report, that he was a protective father, in case it got back to Wendy somehow. Maybe it had? At the thought of this Stan made sure to carefully cross the train tracks as gently as possible as not to agitate the baby further.

He pulled the wagon up on the porch and quickly unlocked the front door bringing the baby inside. Leaving the wagon in the living room and went out back, even in the back of the house he could still hear the baby screaming. When Sparky wasn't digging up dead bodies or putting on fabulous, rhinestone-encrusted accessories he spent most of his time asleep in his pink dog house. The dog immediately jumped up when Stan entered the back yard and started sniffing and then humping his master's leg. Stan pushed his dog off him, already quite used to this and grabbed a rubber chew bone off the snowy ground, noting Sparky was low on water.

Stan returned to the living room and held out the rubber bone to the crying baby. He shook it and squeezed it a few times and when that didn't work he shoved the end of the bone into the baby's mouth. The baby grabbed the bone with his hands and started to suck on it. Silence at last.

"Finally, dude, you were staring to worry me." Stan said breathing a sigh of relief.

Stan pulled the wagon over to the couch and again one handedly rolled and scooted the baby over until he was lying next to him on the couch. Stan then turned on the TV to that one station that always played 70's shows that he oddly seemed to like. It was rare when he got to enjoy Sanford and Son alone in the living room by himself. But it was hard to concentrate when Stan's eyes kept going to the baby. He was kind of cute actually. Stan always had a thing for animals but a human baby was kind of cute in its own different way. Kenny's little brother had blond messy hair and light blue eyes slowly closing for a nap. Was this what being a good parent was all about? Stan felt more like big brother protectiveness over the infant. He wondered if Shelly ever felt like this towards him, when he was small, before she decided to dedicate her life to beating him up on a daily basis and making his life generally shitty. He never liked seeing baby animals suffer and looking over at the sleeping baby, this shouldn't be any different. His sister was just a sociopath, he guessed.

"I guess you need something for me to call you, temporary name for now."

When his family had first gotten him a dog, they'd called him Sparky as a temporary name but eventually it stuck, seeing as the dog was already responding to that name and Stan decided to accept his dog the way that he was, pink bandana and all. But really if it had been up to Stan to name the family pet he would have came up with something more creative. A name that no one else would think of. He had been fond of Gorak but ended up using that name for the prehistoric ice man that he mutually agreed both he and Kyle found at the same time. Stan tucked the blanket a little more secretly around the baby and pondered a new creative temporary name. The McCormick family did give all their kids names starting with a K. Stan rolled over the possibilities in his mind.

"Korath?"

The baby opened one eye at the sound of this, but then lazily shut it again. Stan touched the baby's hair; it was so soft.

"I guess you like your temporary name Korath."

The sound of Sparky jumping at the back door reminded Stan that he still had to give the dog water and left the baby on the couch. He was one handedly filling up the dog's water bowl at the kitchen sink and thinking taking care of a baby wasn't that different than taking care of his dog, when he heard Korath scream bloody murder again.

Dropping the dog's water bowl on top of some already dirty dishes, he ran back to the living room to see the baby had rolled over and fallen on the floor next to the wagon. Stan rushed over and tried to pick up the baby again but with his bad arm it was useless. Stan sat down on the floor next to the baby and wanted to cry himself at the shitty job he was doing taking care of it. Instead of crying though, his eye went to his school backpack lying abandoned by the front door. He crawled over to it and pulled out his school notebook to that page he needed. Kyle was gone and he had one option left, he grabbed the living room phone and found the page Bebe Stevens had written her phone number on.


	3. Bebe, Her Mom And All The Boys

Luckily for Stan, the Stevens family was one of the few who didn't show up to the wedding. It wasn't Bebe's fault. She wanted to go. It was her mother who had screwed up everything.

Mr. Stevens made his living selling used cars, often working late nights and weekends leaving Mrs. Stevens to her housewife hobbies. Usually, Bebe enjoyed her mother's side projects, Bonnie would work in her garden when it was warm, filling Bebe's room with fresh flowers. Her mother would sell Avon, leaving Bebe with a vast array of samples to add to her makeup kit. She would fire up her sewing machine, letting Bebe to model her mother's creations across the living room. At first, Bebe had liked her mother's new hobby of wedding planner, helping her pick out table displays and tasting different cakes. Bebe had always been a fan of any activity involving sparkly, lacy, sweet tasting and pretty things.

The trouble had started after the egg project. Bonnie had been excited at first that her daughter had been chosen to represent the lesbian side of gay marriage, with her best friend nonetheless. She was even happier when the bill had been passed, mostly because of Bebe's and Wendy's male counterparts in the experiment. Bonnie had chattered on during dinner that evening that with all the gay marriages to be coming up her wedding planning business would surely take off. Her ideas growing more and grander between serving her husband and daughter different flavors of wedding cake samples she had spent the day baking. Her father smiled and humored her mother in planning her dream business of the moment, but Bebe had bent her head over her slice of devil's food, cursing herself for being honest when her mother asked what they had learned in school that day. Because of Mrs. Garrison's lectures disguised as rants Bebe had let it slip to her mom that the gay wedding of the century was currently going to happen that weekend, right in their town. She hadn't known that her mom would actually call up Mr. Slave and Big Gay Al trying to get them to use her party planning services. The two men had politely declined but Bonnie hadn't given up, her phone calls growing more and more frequent and aggressive.

Bebe had ignored the situation, instead picking out her new dove gray dress with pearl jewelry to go along with some silver kitten heeled shoes with an adorable sparkly flower accent. Bebe had been admiring herself in the mirror, imagining her silver dress playing off the pink dress Wendy said she was going to wear when she heard the hall way phone's receiver slam down and her mother appearing in her doorway.

"Save that dress for church, honey. We aren't going to the wedding."

Bebe had tried to protest that she would be the only one out of her friends who wouldn't be there. But she was informed that Big Gay Al told her mother to stop calling and not to bother coming to the wedding at all or they would be promptly escorted out. Bonnie had gotten the entire Stevens family banned from going to the wedding on police orders.

Instead Bebe was spending her now free Saturday holed up in her room doing her math homework. She felt it was a small way to get back at her mother by being really good at math, and she succeeded for the most part. The higher Bebe kept her GPA the more satisfied she felt fighting the dumb blonde stereotype her mother seemed to perpetuate. Bebe was not as studious as Wendy though. She had gotten through most of the assigned multiplication table homework quickly and easily but she had set it aside for now. In front of her was a blank sheet of pretty flowered stationary.

Future telling devices had gotten boring; especially after that weird little boy Butters had gone through all that trouble to steal one from Heidi's sleepover. Boys could be so incredibly stupid. Bebe was a bit concerned if Butters actually liked dressing up like a girl; he had taken a bit too well to the makeover Bebe and her friends had given him. Bebe shoved the disturbing thought out of her head as she turned to her own latest and greatest hobby. Her new thing was making lists in the back of her school notebooks. The thing was there was so much criteria in deciding what order things should go in. She had already gotten Lola and Esther in on it, the three of them sitting together at recess and giving their opinions. Bebe's next step was to get more girls into it, possibly organizing some kind of club for list making.

She was staring a list of potential girls to ask to join the club when she heard a knock at her door once again. Her father must be at work by now, it had to be her mother, coming to apologize she hoped. Not likely though.

"Bebe?"

Bebe got up to lock the bedroom door. "I'm busy, Mom, come back later."

"But you have a phone call, Sweetie."

Her hand froze on the door handle. Who could be calling her now? All her friends had to still be at the wedding. "Who is it?"

"It's a boy. Open up, Bebe."

Bebe unlocked the door and flung it open, gawking at her smiling mother. "A boy?"

Bonnie smiled even wider as she handed her daughter the phone. "My, the boys sure do love my little girl. He sounded nervous, maybe he wants to ask you out on a date."

"Well give me some privacy then, Mom." Bebe slowly shut her bedroom door again as she carefully held the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"

"Bebe?" A strained male voice said through the other end, a loud high pitched noise could be heard in the background.

Bebe held the phone away from her ear slightly as she sat back down at her desk. "Yeah it's me. Who is this?"

The voice came back through the phone, choked and panicked. "It's Stan. I need your help; can you come to my house right now?"

"Stan? What the hell? What's going on over there?"

"I'll explain when you get here. You remember where I live, right?"

"Yes? Why do you want me to go over there?"

His voice came in and out through the phone, like he was pacing back and forth. "Because of school. Kyle isn't around and I have no one else who can help me. Get over here right now and bring doll clothes."

"Wait, doll clothes? Stan!" She was met with the dial tone. Bebe stared at the phone for a bit before hanging up, burying her head in her arms at her desk. She knew giving him her phone number was a bad idea. She heard her bedroom door open and felt a soft hand on her hair, fingers combing though the curls. Her mother had probably been listening at the door.

"You seem upset. Did you let him down easily Bebe?"

"No mom it's not like that, I think he wants homework help." Or help with some great disaster more likely, dismantle a bomb, hide a dead body, and destroy incriminating evidence. Bebe was well aware of Wendy's ex and his little adventures. Why did he need to get her involved?

Bonnie paid no attention as she grabbed a comb off her daughter's dresser and starting running it through Bebe's hair. "That's my girl, taking after her mother, pretty and smart."

Bebe got up, swatting the comb away. Looking into her mother's aged face, hair perfectly styled and wearing about an inch of makeup. Thoughts of her mother constantly nagging her father to let her use some of their savings to get her get some plastic surgery. It was one of Bebe's worst fears, to grow up to be as shallow as her mother.

"Well I have to go, Mom, he needed me right away. Big math test on Monday." Alien visitors, a mutant bacteria strain outbreak, maybe a werewolf was currently on the loose. Only she could help him because _Kyle_ wasn't around?

Bebe made a show of grabbing her back pack and shoving the contents of her desk into it. School books, her lists, her makeup bag, fashion magazines and the large bag of candy she had bought earlier that week. Survival supplies. Sadly after she heard her family was banned from the wedding she had changed back into her normal clothes but slipped back on the fabulous silver shoes. She hoped whatever she was about to do wouldn't involve running. She went over to her toy box and after a bit of hesitation she selected her least favorite baby doll, wondering what the hell Stan wanted to do with it. Voodoo sacrifice?

Her mother was still hovering. "If things work out with that boy, invite him over for dinner. I'm making pork chops tonight!"

"Mom, stop it. It's Wendy's ex boyfriend, nothing is going on!"

"You never know, your eyes could meet over the study books, your hands touch, slowly a smile spreads over that boy's face."

Bebe's mental image went from human sacrifices and supernatural beings to Wendy covered in puke stains.

"With looks like yours, Bebe, you don't have to try very hard at all!"

That did it. Bebe said nothing as she started down the stairs, her stomps shaking the pictures hung along the wall. She slammed the front door shut and stood on her front porch, trying to clear her head.

She was already quite used to this kind of behavior from her mom and others. Because she was told she was attractive, people would constantly accuse Bebe of trying to get by on just her looks. Bebe hated to think about the constant gossip behind her back. It left her afraid to even try going after one of the boys in her class for friends or something more, save for shy smiles she'd exchange with Clyde Donovan during school lectures when she thought no one else was looking. She crossed her front yard, reminded of the time all the boys in her class showing up to her house, camping out on her front lawn and eventually fighting over her. That had been too overwhelming.

Stan had been among them.

Bebe also recalled Stan showing up at her house right before last Christmas demanding she somehow fix things between him and Wendy. As if she had that kind of control over her best friend's love life. He had caught her at a bad time, Bebe had been watching an 80's movie marathon on cable and had been daydreaming if a boy showed up at her house with a boom box and a romantic song she'd probably melt into a puddle.

Just one boy, not the entire fourth grade class. No one would call Bebe a slut in this little mini fantasy of hers. Wendy tended to show her serious side publicly, only Bebe knew her best friend would also lapse into fantasy, especially when under pressure.

South Park's neighborhoods were small and Bebe didn't live too far away from Stan. As she turned down Bonanza Street, she was hit with a realization. If Stan had as much control over his best friend as he thought she did over Wendy, Kyle would've shown up to her house playing Peter Gabriel a long time ago. These days, Bebe found Kyle a bit on the annoying and arrogant side, even if Wendy had told her he made an excellent study partner. She wondered if Kyle had sucked at studying with Wendy, what sort of romantic confessions Bebe would hear over their lengthy phone conversations. Bebe and Wendy were pretty equal the amount of their crushes, but Bebe had to admit the guys who actually liked Wendy back were a much higher quality. They would look Wendy in the face when talking to her.

Bebe couldn't understand why Wendy was the jealous one.

She made it to the Marsh family home, almost in a huff. Stan was all over Wendy, and not just the contents of his stomach. But whenever Bebe was forced to be around Stan he was always so demanding. Who the hell did he think he was ordering her around like that? He treated her so shittily for the one day they were stuck working with each other, expecting her to do all the work. She didn't except to be treated like Wendy but he could have been a little bit more respectful. Why was she here? He seemed desperate but was she really his only option? But with everyone at the wedding what else did she have to do besides avoid talking to her mother? Bebe gritted her teeth as she rang the door bell. She'd play along with whatever he wanted but she'd lay down a few ground rules first. He needed her. She was doing this out of the kindness of her heart.

By this point she was ready to give him a piece of her mind but when the front door swung open any venomous words she had died away. Wendy's ex boyfriend looked so pathetic. His face was bruised and his arm in a sling. Bebe had seen all the explosions at the egg check ceremony but it wasn't just that. Bebe was already used to boys not looking her in the eye but Stan had his head down looking at the floor, in defeat.

"Stan, is everything okay?"

Stan sighed. "No."

He went towards her, Bebe holding her arms in front of herself unsure what he was trying to do. He grabbed the baby doll out of her hands, frowning at it as he opened the door wider to let her in.

"You needed a doll, right?"

"Doll clothes. You didn't have anything other than pink?"

"It was the best I could do on such short notice. What the hell is going on here?"

"Come in, I'll show you."

Bebe bit her lip as she cautiously entered Stan's very quiet house.


End file.
